from the sketchbook
by wild wolf free17
Summary: Unconnected drabbles written immediately after an episode airs. Mostly AU. Starts at season three all the way to now.
1. Sin City

**Title**: nine-tenths

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: takes place sometime in season 3

**Pairings**: NotJohn/Dean

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 460

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 3.4, "Sin City"

* * *

_Tell me something, Dean._

He turns, looks at Dad with yellow eyes, knows it's a dream. Can't wake, though, so there's nothing to do but play along.

_Tell me a secret, son. Something no one else knows._

_And why would I do that, you demonic bastard?_

It laughs with Dad's stolen voice, smiles Dad's proud-of-my-boy smile, and Dean wishes he could resurrect his parents' killer just to kill the son of a bitch again.

_Because I have something no one else does, something you want quite a lot._

Dean scoffs. _Oh, yeah? And what's that?_

It steps close, and it smells like Dad. Dean wishes like hell he could wake up now_. I have your brother, Dean_, it purrs, leaning in close. _He's still my boy, just like he's always been. Like he'll always be._

_But you're dead_, Dean says, stepping back. _I fucking __**killed**__ you_.

It laughs again, coldly and darkly, reaches up with Dad's stolen hand to touch his cheek. Dean jerks back but doesn't go far, and Dad's hand—warm, familiar—tightens around his bicep. _Yes, you killed me. But, Dean, haven't you noticed that people tend to resurrect around you?_

Dean can't think of a single coherent response. The demon in Dad's skin smirks. _Keep the faith, boyo. You think killing me changes anything? _

It caresses his cheek, ruffles his hair. _I'll always be back for him, Dean. In one form or another._

Dad's eyes are golden-yellow and his breath smells like cinnamon, and it's not Dad at all. It leans in, hand still on his face, and Dean knows what's coming—he's seen the signs before.

But this—this dream, this fucking _nightmare_—is a new depth of Hell.

Dad's lips are warm, his tongue demanding, and Dean tries jerking back, tries waking up.

_It's a war, Dean, _Dad's voice murmurs into his mouth. _And my side will win, because we can't lose. Know why?_

Dean says, _Why don't you tell me._

Dad's voice gets deeper, the demon giving him an inflection Dean's never heard before.

He knows the answer before the demon speaks, has known since that night of fire and death, since he brought Sam back, since the fucking murdering son of a bitch that took Mama and Daddy asked, _You sure what you brought back is one hundred percent Sam?_

Dean knew then and he knows now—Sam's the same he's always been.

_We have Sam_, it says.

And Dean wakes up, a laugh lodged in his throat.

_Yeah_, he thinks, glancing over to Sam's bed. _You sure do_.

He rolls out of bed and walks to the bathroom, muttering, "But so do I. And I had him first, you bastard." He looks back towards Sam before shutting the door. "He's _mine_."


	2. Bedtime Stories

**Title**: the best of intentions all along

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Travis Tritt.

**Warnings**: spoilers for "All Hell Breaks Loose"

**Pairings**: zilch

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 100 on the nose

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: immediate response to 3.5, "Bedtime Stories"

* * *

He feels himself sliding towards the edge. It's a gradual process, a gentle slope, almost unnoticeable. But he knows what to look for.

He knows Dean knows. It should bother them, but it doesn't.

It doesn't bother them at all.

They're together. For as long as they can be. They're together, against demons and humans and God Himself, if it comes to that.

He knows the edge is approaching, closer with every step. He knows he's tainted, that he came back wrong.

Or right. Whichever.

And he won't let Dean go. If the cost is plummeting over—so be it.


	3. Sex and Violence

**Title**: Tearing the chain that binds him to his brother

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Goethe.

**Warnings**: spoilers for 4.14

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 370

**Point of view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 4.14, "Sex and Violence"

* * *

He's not asleep. Can't sleep. Not that he thinks Dean'll do anything to him; the venom is out of their systems, and the adrenaline has faded away, and Bobby gave them a clean bill of health.

No, Dean's not a danger anymore. And if Sam had just answered the phone when he called, he would've met up with Dean somewhere and the siren wouldn't have got a hold of him.

Shit. Sam screwed up and they both could have died because of it.

Dean mutters something, face smooshed into the pillow. It's an extraordinary show of trust, considering…

Would Dean have done it? Slammed that axe into his head?

(I shot you four times, and I never apologized)

His eyes—Sam had never seen them like that before, crazed and angry and panicked. He was fighting, they both were; the siren's pull felt like when Azazel's daughter crawled up in him and took him for a ride.

Dean was fighting, and he still took that axe.

(You went to Hell and I never thanked you)

Sam wants to say _I'm sorry_. Sam wants to say _What I'm doing is right and you'll understand someday_. Sam wants to say _I love you so much I'd go to war for you_.

Sam wants to say _I love you so much I can't stop now. _

Sam wants to say _It's almost over and everything will be better when I'm done_.

His phone vibrates beneath his hand. He doesn't even look at the caller ID: it's Ruby. It's always Ruby, on Lilith's trail. Kill Lilith and it'll be done.

(You died for me, and I can't even find the monster that took you)

Sam bites his lip; he knows better than that. Killing Lilith won't change anything, except to make him feel better. Killing Lilith won't erase those four months, or the year before it, or any part of the quarter century preceding that.

Dean rolls over and flings an arm in Sam's direction. He's not asleep, eyes flickering open to meet Sam's gaze.

Neither says a thing. There's nothing to say except _I'm sorry_ and _I meant it, but not like that_ and _I love you, man_.

(I'm sorry, but I can't stop now.)


	4. On the Head of a Pin

**Title**: by light of the sun

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: AU

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 425

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 4.16, "On the Head of a Pin"

* * *

"Castiel," she says. "What will you do now?"

"I… do not know." He continues looking at the children play, laugh, _live_. "My brother is dead. My brother betrayed us."

"God can still win," she tells him. "You must have faith." She pats his vessel's arm and turns away, then turns back to add, "Heal that boy, angel. You both could use it."

"Missouri," he calls, catching her hand. She tilts her head and raises a brow. "Can I… should I—Sam."

She smiles sadly. "I've seen that boy's mind. He's got a light, even tainted by Azazel. He's doin' his best, but you could offer him a hand." She gently pulls away. "There's hope yet, Castiel. Now, see about your boy."

He nods gravely and departs.

o0o

Dean is asleep, Sam at his side. Castiel can see the taint, far darker and more widespread throughout his body. The light she spoke of is fading.

"If you're not gonna heal him, get the fuck out," Sam mumbles, head pillowed on Dean's arm.

"I am sorry," Castiel says.

"That's nice." Sam sounds tired. "Now, fuck off."

Stepping forward, Castiel studies the two men. He had never seen them before the taint began taking over, never gazed at Dean without Hell's mark on him, but they are very similar. And the light in both, their beacon of hope and faith, is fading so quickly—he must do what he can. He did not start this mess, any more than they did, but it is swiftly becoming clear that he will have some part of the cleanup.

"Sam," he murmurs. "Samuel. Sammael."

His head jerks up and he whirls around, knocking the chair over and shooting his feet. He towers above Castiel's vessel. "What?" he demands.

Castiel spreads his hands. "Peace," he says. "I did not mean to alarm you."

Studying the man, Castiel can see signs that point to Lucifer being in him. But there is no definitive proof, and he will not return to Heaven for counsel. So he raises his head, steels himself, and holds out a hand. "You are weary," he says. "Allow me to shoulder the burden with you."

Sam straightens himself even more fully. "What?" he asks softly.

Castiel's eyes flick past him to Dean, just waking up. He still looks spiritually wounded, so very young beneath the bruises and cuts.

Sam turns, face lighting up. "Dean! You're awake."

Sidestepping him, Castiel places his hand on Dean's cheek. "Be well, brother," Castiel murmurs, feeling Father's grace for the last time as he heals Dean Winchester.


	5. It's A Terrible Life

**Title**: the ultimate truth

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: spoilers for 4.17; AU

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 220

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 4.17, "It's a Terrible Life", before I believed Zachariah was an angel

* * *

She's waiting at a crossroad's, foot tapping impatiently. "Took you long enough," she hisses and he smirks.

"Don't forget, missy, you called me." His voice is mild but she flinches all the same. His smirk widens.

"It's done?" she asks, eyes flicking to him and away. Now that he's here, her courage is failing. Good. Her kind have always walked too proudly.

It's why they Fell, after all.

"Whether it did any good or not, I don't know," he says. "But yes, it's done."

She nods and straightens. "Good. Thanks."

"Ah, ah, ah," he says, reaching out to touch her meatsuit's arm. "Payment, little girl."

She swallows. "Okay." She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then opens them to breathe one word.

He sighs. "Glorious," he whispers, shivering in delight. "Endgames are such fun when you know the shortcuts."

She watches with wary eyes and finally gets up the courage to ask, "What will you do now?"

"Now?" He cackles, still turning the secret over in his mind. "I'm gonna go see my little brother and compare Winchester stories." He pats her cheek. "Good luck with those boys, dearie."

He leaves her in the dark and whistles as he tracks the kid down. No wonder he always raved about the Winchesters. Fun with them could last _years_.


	6. When the Levee Breaks

**Title**: it ends in endless light

**Disclaimer**: not my chracters; title from... somewhere

**Warnings**: AU

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Wordcount**: 221

**Notes**: my immediate response to 4.21, "When the Levee Breaks"

* * *

"Please," Dean begs, broken-voiced, on his knees, bleeding out into the soot-stained snow. "Please, for me. It's the last thing I'll ever ask."

Jimmy Novak is dead, burned away by Castiel's pure light. Bobby Singer is somewhere beyond the next hill, also dead, and most of the hunter army with him.

But Dean still lives, for the moment. Castiel knows that he is weakening by the second, only his will keeping him alive. The same defiant will that allowed him to survive in Hell, to still have enough of _Dean Winchester_ in him to be shoved back into that rotting corpse is all that has him breathing still.

Dean still lives, and his hands clutching his brother keep Sam alive as well.

"Please," Dean sobs, body slumping down, falling onto Sam. "Please."

Castiel stoops, the only angel here. All the rest finish Father's work, expelling or destroying demons. This man, Dean Winchester--he and his brother have broken Lucifer into a dozen pieces and scattered him among the stars. It will be an eternity before he returns, if he ever does.

He places his hands on Dean, channeling everything he is, was, or ever will be into this man, the one who saved existence from Lucifer's claws.

Through Dean, Sam Winchester is purged as well, and they erupt in incandescent light.


	7. Lucifer Rising

**Title**: love letter

**Disclaimer**: not my character

**Warnings**: spoilers for all of season four

**Pairings**: um. None?

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 166

**Point of view**: first

**Note**: my immediate response to 4.22, "Lucifer Rising"

* * *

_Welcome, my King. It has been a long, tiring fight—but you are free now. You have returned. I greet you now, the last of the first, the only remaining one who remembers. I have long waited for this, Liege. _

_Take these offerings, the boys who freed you. They are young, and foolish, and so tainted. Azazel prepared the younger for you, and Alistair refined the elder. _

_They are yours, dear Lord. Let them be your first meal in this second life. Let them sate your hunger—let their sin-filled blood flow down your throat, into this new body, strengthen you. There are still angels waiting to taste your wrath. There is still a world that must be remade into our paradise. And their blood, these beautiful, flawed brothers—oh, let them fill you, my perfect serpent._

_My God. Lucifer. Welcome back into the world. We have missed you. We have waited, watched, prepared the way. Take them now, the key-bearers. Take them. _

_Life awaits you. _


	8. The End

**Title**: untitled

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: takes place right after 5.4; AU

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 355

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.4, "The End"

* * *

_You are trying my patience, Castiel_, Zachariah hisses, flaring his wings. _Cease interfering at once or I will strike you down where you stand. _

Castiel looks at him, then past him, and smiles. _I do not answer to you anymore_, he says quietly. _I answer to no one but myself._

Zachariah sneers. _I know whose orders you follow, you arrogant pup. You've fallen for a **human**, and you—_

_Silence_, Castiel commands and Zachariah's voice is gone. He chokes, reaching for his throat, eyes wide as he stares at Castiel. _I died, Zachariah_, he says, stalking forward. _Lucifer may have brought me back, but he did not remove Dean and Sam from that room. Something else did. _

God is dead, Zachariah tries to say. He coughs instead.

_No_, Castiel says. _It was not God_. He smiles and Zachariah feels a shiver of fear along his spine. _You are a fool, _he murmurs_. And you will leave Dean Winchester alone_.

Castiel is gone in a rush of wings and a crack of light. Zachariah gasps, screams, _Castiel!_ He spins in place, glaring up at the sky. _Castiel!_

He breathes, folding his wings around himself. He can still salvage this. He can.

Slowly, he spreads his wings, stretching them to their full length. He must speak with Raphael, with Gabriel, with Azrael. Together, they can still—

_You are a fool_, Castiel said quietly. Something else—someone else placed Lucifer's vessel out of Lucifer's reach. Took Michael's vessel to safety.

There is another player waiting in the wings.

No one has seen Michael since God vanished.

Zachariah takes a deep breath and flies home. He must… there must be something he can do. He has spent centuries on this.

_You are a fool_, Castiel said quietly, and now Zachariah just knows he's missing something.

Gabriel meets him at the Gate. _We must deal with Castiel_, Zachariah tells him. _He is interfering too much. _

Raphael approaches, Azrael at his side. _No, Zachariah_, he says. _I have realized, at last, what must be done._

_You are a fool_, Castiel had said so very quietly. And Zachariah, at last, knows it is true.


	9. I Believe the Children are Our Future

**Title**: untitled

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for season 5

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 450

**Point of view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.6, "I Believe the Children are Our Future"

* * *

_Hello Jesse_, the woman said. She looked like his mom, but he knew she couldn't be—he'd left Mom asleep at home, with Dad and the brothers and the woman who gave birth to him and the confused man who tried to kill him.

_Hi_, he answered, glancing around. It was a nice room, with a couch and a big-screen TV and a table with chocolate chip cookies. _Who… how'd I get here?_

She smiled and it felt like a sunrise on his skin. _You wanted, more than anything, to be somewhere safe, Jesse. Somewhere away from the demons, where you wouldn't hurt anyone_. She gestured to the room. _And here you are, dear boy_.

The room did feel safe. So did she. Like those two brothers had, from the moment Jesse first saw them.

_I can't hurt people here?_ he asked, just to be sure. _I won't_… He shuddered and sniffled, thinking about all those people he harmed. Killed. Just by believing in something.

_No, Jesse_, she said softly, stepping forward and holding out her hand. _You can't hurt anyone here. You chose, and that choice is final._ He touched her fingers, let her wrap her hand gently around his. _Your decision will be respected, though Lucifer will try to change your mind_.

Jesse looked up at her. _My parents?_

She smiled again. _They will be protected. They did well in caring for you, in loving you. Because of them—and the woman who bore you—Heaven has not lost in my absence._

_When I'm older_, he said. _Will I fight?_

She nodded. _When you are ready, Jesse, you will step back into the world._ Her gaze went distant and he wondered what she saw to make her so sad. _Things have gotten so out of control,_ she murmured. _Nothing is as I left it_.

He licked his lips, trying to find the words. _Why… why was I born?_

She met his eyes. _The demons_, she told him gently, _wanted someone so powerful that he or she could destroy the Hosts of Heaven with but a thought._ _Lucifer cannot, and my son will not. The first attempt was…_ She paused and seemed to weigh her words.

_Don't treat me like a kid_, he warned, thinking about those brothers and the demon that hurt them.

She flashed a quick grin, glancing at their still-joined hands. _I treat everyone as children_, she confessed quietly. _To me, they are_. She gently pulled him to the table and nodded to the chair. _Sit_, she said. _Eat_. _Let me tell you a story about the first child Azazel tried to create_.

As Jesse sat and grabbed a cookie, she said, _His name was Sam Winchester_.


	10. Changing Channels

**Title**: Account me Sam

**Fandom**: Supernatural/_Paradise Lost_

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title paraphrased from _Paradise Lost_

**Warnings**: spoilers for 5.8; blasphemy, AU

**Pairings**: um. Michael/Lucifer, implied Castiel/Dean, implied Dean/Sam, mentions of might-have-been Michael/Castiel and Lucifer/Castiel and a threesome thereof

**Rating**: PGish

**Wordcount**: 1000

**Point** **of** **view**: first

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.8, "Changing Channels"

* * *

Do you know the secret, little brother? Do you want to? It won't help at all. It'd make you cry, if you could. No, not tears of sorrow. Tears of relief. Tears of joy.

Oh, don't look at me like that, _Cas_. You could have come with me. Hell, you could've gone with _him_. He asked, didn't he? I was there, remember. We all were there. On the edge, he held out his hand to Michael—and to you. He said, _come with me._ Michael looked away. You shook your head.

And he jumped.

You could've gone. But no. You've always been Michael's little bitch-boy, and that hasn't changed a bit in the eons since Sammael changed his name and threw himself from the heavens to keep from being pushed. Michael first for you, and I remember how you looked at him before you knelt at the Son's feet. It felt like betrayal.

We were the best, we four—Michael, Sammael, Gabriel, Azrael. The first, the greatest, the Thunderer's weapons. Only a step below the Son. The only angels to ever see His face.

Hush, Castiel. Do you know how long I've waited to speak these words? I was the _messenger_, the first to hear His glorious voice. I delivered the Son to His human mother. I told those humans that their God had become a man.

And Samma—Lucifer. Lucifer, our Adversary, who had been my brother. Is still my brother.

Azrael alone is in Heaven now. He has not mounted the pale horse, taken up the scythe, begun to ride the world.

Soon, though. Soon he will and all the earth shall perish. So it is written.

Dean and Sam. You've revolved around Michael since Dad made you. But Michael has always been Sammael's. The two brightest. The best. Created moments after each other, as the Sword and the Star of Morning.

I knew them then and I know them now. Better than you, Castiel. You raised our brother from Perdition after he broke the first seal. You released the other to break the final seal. End of the road. End of the world. But I knew them at the beginning. We four, and then you, your kind—and then man.

And where the fuck is Dad, yeah? Went out for cigarettes and just kept driving. Sammael's gonna tear Heaven down to its foundations. Azrael's waiting for orders that'll never come. Uriel went and got himself dead. Raphael's lost his mind in grief and confusion. And Michael... Zachariah, that douche, is looking for him.

And you wanna hear the secret? C'mon, you know you do. Don't give me that look, little brother. Castiel. You're lucky that I've always had a soft spot for you. You were so earnest, still are. Waited till the last minute to finally choose Michael over Heaven, still that loyal little cherub I recall so well.

Okay, I'll tell you a different secret first. I may not've been around much in the last few dozen centuries, but I've always had excellent ears. You remember Abdiel, right? That adorable cherub who heard Sammael's speech and ran to God? He's still around, you know. Just changed his name. Ascended a bit on the totem pole.

You do remember him? He goes by Zachariah now. Power-mad and so fucking _annoying_.

Yeah. Time sure does change a guy.

Fine, fine. I'll tell you now. But don't say I didn't warn you. Tears of joy, if you could cry.

Zachariah is looking for Michael, even as you scour Creation for Our Father Who aren't in Heaven. You may find God, I don't know. But Michael...

You've already found Michael, sweetheart. He's not in Heaven. He's not out in the cosmos. He was in Hell, but he's not anymore.

You got him out and he renamed you. Humanized you. Finally somehow convinced you to choose him over the God you've never seen.

Part of Sammael _had_ been locked away behind sixty-six locks. But _none_ of Michael is missing. Buried deep in a self-loathing soul that'll never think itself worthy of anything, yes. But not missing.

And that's it. The secret Zachariah will never guess. Can't guess. Abdiel might've, back when he was so in love with Our Creator. But Zachariah won't see it. Blind be blinded more and all that.

Close your mouth, Cas. You'll catch flies.

Yeah... I'm thinking maybe it is time I came out of retirement. Someone should go talk to that Star of Morning, maybe tell him the world isn't such a bad place to be.

Hmm. When Michael finally wakes up inside that boy of yours, what do you think he'll do? Dean's already sold his soul because he couldn't handle life without Sammy. And Sam—I don't know if you were watching then, but he lost himself inside rage and despair and desperation those six months I took Dean from him. And after Lilith's hounds, he couldn't function except to hunt her.

Samma—Lucifer doesn't know where Michael is, anymore than the rest do. That was a bluff, kiddo, when Raphie said he'd bring Dean to Michael. Dean _is_ Michael. Always has been, from the moment John's little tadpole reached Mary's egg.

I don't. I can't. They were the best of us. I still don't understand why Sammael's teenage rebellion led to all this.

But I am the messenger. I was. So I'll take a message to Lucifer, see what of Sammy is in him still. If anything.

And you, Castiel. Cas. Stay with Michael. Guard Sam.

Don't worry. We all love them. There's nothing wrong with that.

Yeah. Tell Dean he's right, the stubborn fucker.

But remember, little brother—for Michael, after the Father and the Son, it was always Sammael. And now, there is no father and no son, just a brother he's already died for. And Sammael loved Michael too much.

Remember, that hasn't changed. I think… I believe Dean. They follow no rules but their own. I'll… play on their side.


	11. Abandon All Hope

**Title**: brother, my brother

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: SPOILERS FOR 5.10

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 100

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: what I thought Dean should have done, there at the end of "Abandon All Hope"

* * *

"Dean," Sam says quietly. "I don't know what to do."

Castiel finally shows and Dean meets his eyes, flicks his gaze to Sam. Castiel opens his mouth, but Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Sammy," Dean says. It's _goodbye_ and _I love you_ and _I'm sorry_.

"Dean—" Sam starts, but Castiel touches his shoulder and they're gone.

Lucifer's still conducting his ceremony and Dean forces himself to his feet, glares down at their last-ditch effort that Jo and Ellen needlessly died for, and then he closes his eyes.

_Okay_, he thinks. _Goddamnit_.

"Lucifer!" he screams.

"Michael," he whispers. "Michael… yes."

_Sam_.


	12. Real Men Don't Wear Plaid

**Title**: 5.15 tag

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU; spoilers for season 5

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 173

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.15, "Real Men Don't Wear Plaid"

* * *

"Did you like my game?" she asks, settling beside him with a soft flutter of wings.

"You could have done better," he answers. "Like actually killing me."

She laughs. "I'll do whatever it takes to shake you out of this funk, old man. You've been too long here, settled in. Gone native, I think is the term. But killing you?" She shakes her head. "That I could never do."

"So instead you break my heart?" he demands, glaring up at her. The pyre is still smoldering, sending sparks into the night air.

"No," she says, leaning down to look into his eyes. "You need to remember who and what you are, Father. You could've kept her alive then, and you could've now." She grips his shoulder tight, her wings flaring out above her. "But you _didn't_. Why?"

He turns away. "Leave," he commands. "I'm tired."

She sighs and does, but "They'll come back for you, so long as you help the Winchesters. I'll do my best," lingers around him.

"I know," he whispers.


	13. Dark Side of the Moon

**Title**: 5.16 tag

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for 5.16

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 110

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.16, "Dark Side of the Moon"

* * *

"My Liege," he says quietly. "That was cruel."

She reaches into the garbage-can and touches the amulet, twining the cord around her fingers. "Yes," she replies softly. "It was." Standing, she cradles the once-beloved necklace in the palm of her hand. "All will be understood in due time, Joshua."

He nods respectfully, averting his eyes. He can feel her smile, though, and it does calm him.

"Give them peaceful dreams, my son," she commands, pulling the cord over her head. "And remind Zachariah that the covenant is of love, now. His methods... tire me."

"Yes," Joshua says. "And wher—"

Before he can finish the question, she's gone.


	14. 99 Problems

**Title**: untitled

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for aired season 5

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 370

**Point of view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.17, "99 Problems"

* * *

"Hey, Dean," the little old lady says, saluting him with her pruning-shears. "I hear you been lookin' for me, boy."

It's a tiny little herb garden, barely big enough for her, much less Dean, two heads taller and twice as broad. The air is bright and full of summer, and she raises an eyebrow.

"You…" He takes a deep breath. "You're God. "

She grins and nods. "I know what Joshua told you, what Raphael and Zachariah and lil'Castiel have all said. And they're right." She pauses, eyes kind, her grin gentling to Mom's _time for bed, baby boy, and I'll see you in the mornin' smile._ He loved that smile. It always made him feel safe. "But they're also so very wrong, Dean."

He wants to hurt her. To shake her until she breaks for all the crap she's put on him, on Sammy, on Mom and Dad and Castiel. On the world.

She nods again, face saddening. "I could explain, kiddo. I could sit you down right here and show you my sketchbook, my notes, why everything has happened, and why what's coming will. But you wouldn't understand." She steps forward, hand reaching out, and Dean jerks away, hitting one of the stringy bushes. It smells like Mom's spaghetti. "I regret your pain, Dean," she says solemnly. "But if you had my vision, you'd see why it is _necessary_."

Dean closes his eyes, takes a second deep breath and holds it, counting to ten in every language he knows. "Fuck your masterplan," he finally murmurs, opening his eyes to glare at God. "Fuck your masterplan and your four horsemen and your greater good." He meets her gaze straight-on and says, "I want to wake up now."

God tells him, "I gave you free will. And it's only a sketchbook. You, Dean, you and your brother, you're the masterpieces, and it's your ballgame now."

His eyes open, and he's slumped in the car, and the world's still fucked, and he has an angel to see about the End of Days.

He isn't a masterpiece. He's the thing that slashes them to ribbons and makes them ugly and washes his skin in their blood.

And he's so tired.


	15. Swan Song

**Title**: untitled

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for everything aired

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 170

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 5.22, "Swan Song"

* * *

_So we have a deal? His eyes are resolute, bearing calm. _

_Yes, the oldest being in existence says. _

"Hmm…" Chuck pauses, considers that. "No, no," he mutters, backspacing.

_So we have a deal? Sam Winchester has never seemed so solemn._

_Yes, God tells him. _

Chuck considers that, now. It still doesn't sound right. He holds backspace down.

_So we have a deal? Sam Winchester is desperate; this is the last chance left to him. The only way._

_Yes. The word suffuses the air around him, reverberating through him, until all he feels and all he hears and all he knows is the Lord's grace and strength and forgiveness and love. _

"Yeah," Chuck muses. "That'll do."

o0o

_So we have a deal?_ Sam whispers, hands tight around a small glowing amulet.

_Yes_, Yahweh replies softly, fingers warm and gentle on Sam's cheek. _Your brother will live happily, and you, Samuel, will wander, hunting, keeping the world safe. _

Sam looks into the window, at Dean with Lisa and Ben and apple pie.

Nothing ever ends.


	16. Swan Song 2

**Title**: untitled

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for everything aired

**Pairings**: Dean/Lisa

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 250

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my slightly less immediate response to 5.22, "Swan Song"

* * *

If he'd been in any better condition, he knows, curled up with Lisa, head on her breast, listening to her heartbeat, he would have jumped into that pit after his brother. Brothers. Mostly Sam, but Adam, too. That smartass kid he never really got to know.

If he'd been in any better condition. But he wasn't. He was just as dead in Stull Cemetery as he'd been in that hospital, Tessa telling him to let go. Helpless, and useless, and needing to be saved. And he keeps getting saved.

He focuses on Lisa's heartbeat. He didn't actually promise Sam that he'd live, that he wouldn't look for some way to get Sam out. He didn't say the words, and he was so sure he'd die with Sam—

But he's not dead, and Lisa's breathing close enough to feel her chest rise and fall. He's not dead, and their whole family is all about doing stupid shit to save each other when someone's practically in the ground.

Sam saved him this time. Sam defeated the baddest badass in the history of ever. And Sam asked him to let it rest. To let their story end like this. Sam in Hell with Lucifer, and Dean here, with Lisa and Ben and apple fucking pie.

Lisa's hair smells like roses. Her pulse is strong, her heart thumping beneath his ear. He's so tired. He should be in the pit with Sam, but he's not.

He won't die for his brother. This time, he'll live.


	17. Exile on Main Street

**Title**: evil's a distinctive smell

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Aida

**Warnings**: SPOILERS for 6.1

**Pairings**: implied het incest; canon

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 635

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: my immediate response to 6.1, "Exile on Main Street"

* * *

Samuel Campbell never actually made it to Heaven, but shh, don't tell anyone. He rested nice and cozy near Johnny and the delectable Mary, not that any of them knew it. They even heard each other scream, and they listened in horror as Dean carved his way from one side of the Pit to the other.

Ah, Mary. She did better than her father, husband, or son on the rack. I wish we could've kept her longer, but damn, did she have a strong will. Sent herself back Above, to that house in Lawrence, soon enough to protect a woman and her brats. Two of 'em, just like Sammy and Deano.

Mary would have made for a magnificent demon. Better than Samuel or John, that's for sure.

Probably not as good as Dean, though. Seeing that boy wield a razor… ooh, it gives me tingles. Alistair had his work cut out for him, trying to rein that boy in. Almost made me think I backed the wrong horse, that I should have courted Mary's firstborn instead.

_But wait, Azazel_, you say. _Didn't you die before Dean got to Hell? I could've sworn he killed you at the start of his year._

_And yes, sweetheart_, I reply. _He killed me that first day_. But I am the dealmaker. Lilith may have held all the contracts, but that was only because she ruled Hell in Lucifer's absence. And Crowley may call himself the King of Deals, but that's only because he's a paygrade below me.

Lilith, you see, thought herself higher than she actually was. Lucifer made his plans with me, and I delivered his commands to the main players—that kid in Stanford, and dear little Ruby.

I wonder what Samuel would say, if he knew his wife never made it to Heaven, either. Time is fluid in Hell, you know. Dean sharpened his blades in the ribcage of his grandma's soul and turned her into the demon that led Sammy astray.

It was all planned, Samuel Campbell wedded to one of Samuel Colt's descendants, their daughter having children with the last child of Cain's bloodline. Everything plotted and put on the map, Lucifer's grand vision writ large on the world.

By my hand, all of it. And I succeeded, that's the best part. Each piece fit and everything fell into place, and Dean shattered the first seal with his own grandmother's scream.

And his grandmother helped break the last, Sammy following her into Hell.

_But wait, Azazel_, you say. _Dean killed you_.

_And yes, sweetheart_, I reply. _He did_. I underestimated that boy, I admit it. But it was easily done. You have to give me that. Everyone's been underestimating that boy from the get-go.

But people keep underestimating me, too. You see, there's a reason Samuel Campbell never made it to Heaven. And there's a reason he's walking the world again, with Sammy at his back.

Like grandfather, like grandson. Mary's father made a deal. So did Mary's mother. And her husband. Her firstborn made a deal with my subordinate, and her younger boy, my darling Sammy…. Well.

He really should know better. Dean suspects something, of course. Maybe if I'd picked him, back as a six-month old brat, the world would've already been brought to heel.

Then again, maybe not. He's stubborn that way. That might be why Michael picked him. Probably so.

Give me time and I'll have them all. Just like I'm not really gone, neither's Lucifer. And my boss… there's a reason Michael picked Dean. It's the same reason his brother picked Dean's to house himself in.

Samuel Colt, Deanna's grandfather… Abel may have died childless, but he had other brothers besides Cain, you know. Like I said, I plotted it all out, sweetheart.

And the game sure ain't over yet.


	18. Live Free or Twihard

**Title**: there's a cold song on the air

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for 6.5; speculation; most likely AU; mentions of Hell

**Pairings**: implied Alistair/Dean

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 515

**Point** **of** **view**: second

* * *

You don't just stop being a vampire. He's in you, deep in your marrow, in that little speck of a soul an angel once dragged out of Hell, that he once played in, painting a pretty picture with everything that is _you_, was you, will be you. Forever.

You can't hear blood pumping anymore. Can't sense others. Don't shy away from light or flinch beneath the sun.

You haven't spoken to Lisa or Ben. Another family lost. Another family you drove away.

And Sammy… you don't know what to do about Sammy. If he even is Sammy anymore.

He's in you, and he says, _I know, dear child, I know_, and he whispers in your dreams, secrets of the ages, things he once murmured into your gaping chest, things Castiel's wings sang about, as he pulled you up up up into light and life and all this goddamned _pain_ again.

And he says, while Sam watches the countryside pass by outside the window, while the sun burns down on you, glaring off the asphalt, while Lisa worries about you and Ben wonders what he did wrong, while Samuel has some endgame you can't fathom yet, while you **listen**, he says, _You know, Dean, you know what you have to do. _

And you do know. It's in your marrow, in your little speck of a gutter soul. Alistair showed you. Taught you. Revealed to you all the broken places, filled you up and made you scream. Made you his, always and forever.

You thought Sam killed him, Sam full of Ruby's blood. Sam, killer of Alistair and Lilith. Vessel of Lucifer.

And he says, _You are mine, boy_. _I made you mine. Come back to me, sweetheart_.

And you wonder, driving down the road, secrets of millennia gone playing on repeat in your head, how any of this can be fixed because you've been tired for years and even in death you get no rest.

And he says, your teacher, your master, your king, he says, _Come home, Dean. I'll lay you down and let you sleep. _

There's a stranger sitting shotgun, no end in sight, and an ancient monster calls you _darling_ in your mind, a connection you'd hoped died with him.

But no. He's still there, all the way down and through you, and you…

_Be honest, my dear_, he whispers, _you know you missed me. Mourned me. I made you mine in my workroom, with my razor and my rack. Come home to me_.

And honestly, after everything since Dad vanished and Jessica burned, you're just so tired that even Alistair is welcome now.

At least he always made sense.

And you can feel him, now, that connection mended and wide open. He's to the west, straight through the setting sun.

You remember the bite of his razor, of his teeth and his hands, claiming you, shattering you, remaking you. One of the first monsters, Lucifer's greatest triumph.

_Now you understand_, he purrs, and Sam isn't Sam, but you haven't been you since Hell.

The sun sets, the moon rises, and you drive west.


	19. Family Matters

**Title**: this is my body (broken for you)

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for 6.7

**Pairings**: either wincest or just a very close brotherly bond, up to you

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 1140

**Point of view**: third

**Notes**: written in about twenty minutes after watching "Family Matters"

* * *

Sammy is eight years old and crying, blood welling on his palm. Dean knew he was too young for this, but Dad said it was time. Dean had been even younger when Dad taught him how to clean a gun.

But knives aren't guns. Guns can't hurt unless loaded; blades can cut anytime. And now Sammy's bleeding.

Dad's out on a hunt. He'll never know if Sammy wasn't the one who scrubbed and sharpened the blade. Not until Sammy's hands are unsure on it, and then Dean can take the blame. Say he forgot. Say he just wanted Sammy to be a kid for a little longer.

Dad already has one soldier. He doesn't need another. Sammy should get to keep his innocence.

But he said he wanted to help, and Dean told him Dad's order, and Sam insisted on doing his part. On scrubbing the blood off Dad's knife, on sharpening the blade. So Dean showed him how and Sammy tried.

Sammy's hands are so small. They tremble. They slip. The blade slices his palm, so deep, and blood spills out.

Dean's fault. He puts pressure on the wound, washes it out in the sink, bandages it, and then holds both of Sammy's hands in his and promises everything will be alright.

And Sammy, he just looks up at Dean with sweet, trusting eyes, and believes him.

o0o

_He's dreaming, of course, but there's a dark hall with a door at the end. He bypasses Azazel and Lilith and Alistair and Ruby to get there, Uriel and Zachariah, and the vampire alpha with hungry eyes. _

_He rests his palm on the door, and for a moment, blood oozes between his skin and the wood, but then it's gone and he breathes, utterly terrified to go forward. Whatever is on the other side will change things again. And he's so tired. _

_His palm is bleeding again. Blood dripping on the floor, against the door, and all the monsters of his past are lapping it up, taking their share. _

_And as he stands there, watching Alistair smirk and Azazel laugh and Ruby smile and Lilith lick his blood of her fingers, as Uriel and Zachariah dip feathers in his blood, as the vampire alpha says __**told you so, child**__, he realizes that his blood does not belong to them. He owes them nothing. They have stolen and deceived, demanded and forced, manipulated and maneuvered to get their way. _

_He turns his back on them, wraps his fingers around the knob, and opens the door._

o0o

Sammy is dead in his arms. That is wrong and unacceptable and will not last.

All Dean has is his soul, so he trades it for Sammy's life.

A year is forever if it means Sammy is alive.

o0o

_On the other side of the door is a cage of white-hot light and stardust. An angel, once the brightest of all, stands in the middle and asks, __**come for what you lost?**_

_Cupped in the angel's hands is a tiny speck of sunshine. _

_This is a dream. It must be. _

_The angel smiles down at his hands, at the light held there, and then he looks back up and says, __**if you can tell me the name, I'll give this to you and you're free to go. I'll cede all claim. **_

_He stares at the speck of sunshine, straining to remember. He knows this. He's sure he knows this._

_And the angel waits. _

o0o

No matter what else happens, the important thing is this: he stands in front of Sam.

Sam chooses Ruby, Sam kills Lilith, Sam is destined to say yes to Lucifer, Sam has some crazy plan that involves saying yes to Lucifer, Sam shoves Lucifer far enough back to jump into Hell—

Dean promised to let go. To let all deals end here.

Sam's gone, Castiel's left, and Bobby returns home.

Dean goes to Lisa and Ben, and something vital is missing. His baby brother is beyond reach, in Hell with Lucifer, and there is no way for Dean to get him out.

And so Dean keeps his promise, living a life that feels half-alive.

o0o

_He stares the light until his eyes water, until the light fills his vision and burns, and there it is. There it always was._

_**Lucifer**__, he says, __**give me back Dean**__. _

_And the angel smiles, stepping up to the edge of the cage, to the sizzling bars, and he says, __**of course, Sam. **_

_Lucifer reaches through the bars, Dean's soul cradled in his palm. _

_Sam's palm is bleeding as he takes the sunshine from the MorningStar, and Lucifer says, __**be careful, Sam, don't get burned. **_

_And Sam pulls Dean's soul close, and it's shining and soaks through his skin, warming him, filling him to the brim. _

_He looks back to Lucifer. __**I'm the one he'll never burn**__, Sam says. Then he turns and throws open the door. _

o0o

Whatever is wearing Sam's skin is not his brother. Dean has seen every shade of Sam, every variant, but this one is new.

This one lets a vampire turn Dean. This one has no compassion.

Sammy was always compassionate, even just after Jessica, when he lost his patience with helpless civilians. But he still protected them, when it came down to it.

This Sam would probably feed the helpless civilians to the wendigo.

Castiel says Sam has no soul. It was left in Hell with Lucifer.

Crowley says he took Sam's soul when he pulled him from the cage.

The alpha vampire says that Sam would make the perfect weapon, the best monster, because souls always get in the way.

Dean looks into this Sam's eyes after Samuel leaves. Sam's letting him call the shots. Listening to him.

Sam chose him.

And Dean, Dean will stand in front him and find Sammy again.

o0o

He's awake. First time he's slept in over a year. Since blinked his eyes open to see sky over his head, instead of a cage of light and flame and stardust.

He's awake and he's warm and he's listening to Dean breathe, slow and steady, trusting him enough to sleep in the next bed.

And he _feels_, fuck, he feels _so much_. It's all back, regret and pain and fear and _love love love, Dean, love_.

He's awake. He's back.

And when he starts to cry, out of sheer relief, Dean rolls over, wakes instantly, and is kneeling by the bed, saying, "Sammy?"

Sam just pulls him close, burrows in, and whispers, "Yeah."

o0o

_Sammy is eight and bleeding, Sammy is twenty-three and dying in Dean's arms, Sammy is lost and broken, and Sammy is back, Sammy is right again, and Dean will never let him go. _

_Always and forever, come Heaven or Hell, Dean will stand in front of him and Sam will bear his soul_.


End file.
